


Best You Ever Ate

by darkforetold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas sucks—under a table at <i>Ma's Diner</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best You Ever Ate

They stopped at _Ma’s Diner_ off route 54 just outside Wichita, Kansas. The plastic plants, off-white tablecloths, dust—it was all older than they were, but place smelled like good southern cooking and reminded him of Mom.

Sitting at a table, Dean stared blankly at the menu. Eggs, pancakes, sausages—nothing sounded good to him, but his stomach had other ideas. It cramped and growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

“Dean—“

“I got nothing to say to you, Sam.”

Dean frowned and picked at the menu with his fingernails. His brother let out a heavy sigh and he tried to ignore it. Tried instead to concentrate on the trucks roaring down the highway. At the table behind him, someone went on about Old Aunt Nelly and her moonshine operation. Forks and knives clinked. A whole world circled around him, but all he could think about—

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?”

Dean steeled his jaw. He clenched his fingers—and they _ached_ with bruises and cuts. Wouldn’t be if Sam hadn’t—he shook his head. “Sorry’s not gonna cut it this time, Sammy.”

“Come on, Dean.”

“You boys ready t’order?”

They looked up at the same time. Ma—said so on her name tag—was a sixty-something woman with curly hair dyed cherry-red. She smiled bright and wide, a piece of gum stuck in her cheek. “You boys look like you’ve gone through Hell.” Oh, the irony. “That’s okay. Don’t you worry none. If my good home cookin’ can send the Devil right outta little Abigail, you’ll be leavin’ here as good as new.” She pulled out a pen and paper pad. “What can I get’cha?”

“Big Breakfast Slam,” Dean said. “Bacon. Toast.”

“Y’want coffee, darlin’? Look a little rough around the edges.”

“Sure.”

“How ‘bout you, tall-and-handsome?”

“I’ll have the same,” Sam smiled.

“You bet’cha.” Ma snapped her gum. “It’ll be out in a jiffy.”

She took their menus and whirled away, leaving them scowling at each other. Sam sighed again, looked down at his empty coffee cup, and said, “It was my fault—“

“Damn straight it was your fault,” Dean snapped. “Listen, Sam. I’m only gonna say this once: Whatever your problem is, whatever you gotta do, you fix it, you hear me? You fix it and get your head back in the game—“

Glass shattered. Someone screamed. 

Sam jumped and instinctively went for Ruby’s knife. When Ma began yelling about being more careful, his brother relaxed a little. No one heard the sound of wings but Dean. He expected Cas to appear next to him, bearing an angel blade, ready for a battle, but he didn’t. There was no holy terror or righteous fury, only strong hands and impatience. Fingers hooked the back of his knees and jerked, making him slip down in his chair at a weird angle. It was just enough so Cas could get at what he really wanted—his belt. Dean grit his teeth and slapped his hands away. A growl seeped through the tablecloth. When Cas grabbed at his buckle, unhooked it, Dean nudged him with his foot— _hard_. It didn’t deter Cas at all, just made him angrier. The angel grabbed at his hips, his jeans, and pulled. Dean had to hold on tight to keep himself from falling out of his chair. He righted himself just as Sam turned. From the sullen look on his brother’s face, the defeated line in his shoulders, Sam hadn’t noticed anything… weird. Yet.

“I get what you’re saying about getting my head in the game,” Sam said. “And you’re right, I’ve been kinda… off lately.”

Dean tried peeling Cas’ fingers from his zipper. No luck.

“I’ll get it right, I promise.”

He contemplated taking a fork to Cas’ arm and fumbled for it, but Cas got to him first. The angel freed his hard cock from his underwear and—Dean slammed his hand down on the table. Silverware clattered. Empty coffee cups trembled. Sam gave him a look that was both scrutinizing and concerned. “You okay?”

He would’ve answered. Should’ve. Couldn’t, though, not when Cas was teasing the head of his dick with his lips. Kissing the crown before giving it a firm, long stroke of his tongue. Dean gripped the tablecloth and closed his eyes. He bit his bottom lip because if he didn’t, he’d groaned so loudly it’d disturb the whole goddamn diner. 

“Dean?”

Sam grabbed his arm. He jumped out of his skin, whole body jerking with surprise. Sent his dick right into Cas’ mouth. It was tight, wet and warm; went in deep and made his fucking toes curl. He strangled a groan in his throat. When he dared to open his eyes, Sam was there like a gigantic puppy with sad, worried eyes.

“Dude, _yeah_ ,” Dean snapped. “I’m _fine_.”

“We good?”

“ _Yes_.”

The word sounded more like a hiss than anything else. Cas had gone from sweet little kisses, teasing him with his tongue, to full on Hoover-vacuum sucking. Dean swallowed down a whimper, hiding it by clearing his throat. Ma came by with coffee, asked them if they were doing okay—just in time for Cas to swallow him down. _Deep_. His cock hit the back of Cas’ throat. Dean couldn’t help it. 

He groaned.

Both Sam and Ma turned and stared at him. He flashed them a strained grin. “Just real hungry for your cooking, Ma. That’s all.”

That satisfied her. She smiled wide, pinched his cheek, and said, “Well, it’ll be right out, sweet thing. I’ll get y’fed good and right.”

Sam, though, he wasn’t convinced. When Ma left, Sam narrowed his eyes. “What’s your deal?”

Cas bobbed on his cock, quick and eager. Hungry as if he hadn’t eaten in _years_ —which made it really fucking difficult to concentrate, talk, and _think_ like a regular human being. He opened his mouth to answer. Instead of words, he made an airy noise, breathless and meaningless. His eyes clouded over with sex and his whole body tingled with it, shutting his brain down. Dean surrendered and sank into it—Sam was there to snap him right back to reality.

“Dude, are you possessed?”

“No,” he growled—groaned. “Just… fucking hungry. Get off my back.”

Sam frowned at him. Dean… swayed back in his chair as if he’d been drugged. Cas sucked him until his eyes rolled back in his head. It took everything he had to stop him from grabbing Cas’ hair and holding him still while he fucked his mouth. He wanted to drive his dick deeper, harder, than what Cas was giving him. In two seconds, he’d drag Cas out from under the table, bend him over, and fuck his ass raw. 

Ma came around with half a second to spare. 

“Got your Big Breakfast Slams right here, boys—My _Lord_ , you look as white as a sheet,” she drawled. “You all right, handsome? Looks like you’re gonna be sick here in a’sec.”

“I’m good, ma’am,” Dean grated, trying to smile. He threw in a wink for good measure. “Promise.”

“You be careful with that wink of yours, young man,” she scolded lightly. “Don’t want to give this old woman a heart attack, do ya?” 

Ma gave his cheek another pinch and walked away. Again, as if he were threatened—or jealous?—Cas sucked his brains right out of his dick. Dean dropped his fork with a clatter, his head in his hands. He groaned again, but this time, he tried to make it sound like something hurt, like he had a headache. It was a cover-up. A really shitty one. Sam saw right through it. His Stanford-smart brother tilted his head, lifted up the tablecloth—

“Sam,” Dean rasped. “Don’t.”

“Cas under there?”

“Cas?” Dean echoed. “Why would Cas—” 

The angel jerked on his hips and his cock plunged deeper into his mouth. Dean choked on a breath.

“Why would Cas what? Be under the table? Oh, I don't know. Because when we’re home, he's in your room every goddamn night?” Sam whispered harshly. “Dude, I fucking hear you guys. The walls aren't that thick."

Sam turned and flagged down Ma. Dean’s eyes grew wide. “What are doing?”

“What do you think, Dean?” Sam said. “I’m not staying here while—”

“What’cha need, sweets?” Ma asked.

“May I get a to-go box?”

“Two,” Dean corrected hastily.

As soon as Ma shuffled away, Sam got up and just… left him there without a word—and despite all the embarrassment he’d caused him, Cas wasn’t stopping. His hard cock slipped in and out of his mouth, over and over, and Cas moaned around him. Free to make noises now that Sam left. Dean reached under the tablecloth, grabbed his head with both hands, and just… fucked his mouth with everything he had. It was Cas’ turn to whimper, to just go with it. Dean jerked his head down on his dick until the heat in his balls was unbearable. His gut twisted and before he knew it—

He emptied into Cas’ mouth as his orgasm crushed his insides. Left him woozy, a little light-headed. Disorientated and euphoric. Cas appeared beside his chair with the whoosh of wings, personal space be damned. By that time, Ma rounded the corner with two white boxes and beamed a smile. 

“Well now, where in the world’d you come from, sugar?”

“From under the—“

Dean elbowed Cas in the side. “He just… flew in.”

“Like the precious angel I bet he is, bless his heart.” Ma smiled at Cas. “You hungry?”

“I’m… full, thank you.”

“—and it looks like y’left some of it on your face, darlin’. Let me get it for you.” Ma pulled a handkerchief from her bra, dabbed it on her tongue, and wiped at his mouth. Whatever it was, it was white and—Dean paled.

“We gotta go.”

“Why?” Cas asked pointedly.

Dean gave him a face and started packing up the leftovers. At some point, he fixed his pants and dropped a fifty on the table. Grabbed Cas by the sleeve and dragged him toward the front of the diner. Sweet as can be, Ma followed behind and waved at them as they piled in the car. Cherry-red hair blazing in the sun.

“Nice meetin’ you boys,” Ma hollered. “Y’all come back now, y’hear?”


End file.
